A Bond Forged in Shadows

  The training grounds behind Lux Arcana stood nearly empty at this hour, embers from an earlier sparring session glowing faintly while the scent of charred wood lingered in the air.

  Ash leaned against the stone archway, watching Kaelor methodically swing his blade, the silver steel catching the light as he moved.

  “Should I be worried?” Ash mused arms crossed as he took in the rhythmic precision of Kaelor’s strikes. “Because that looks like the practice someone does when they’re thinking about putting a sword through someone’s chest.”

  Kaelor didn’t pause, his golden eyes flicking toward Ash briefly before he finished his last swing, lowering the blade. “It’s called discipline,” he said, exhaling slowly. “Something you might consider practicing.”

  Ash smirked. “I prefer improvisation.”

  Kaelor sighed, sheathing his blade before turning fully toward him. “And that’s why you get thrown into walls.”

  Ash chuckled. “Fair point.” He tilted his head slightly, studying Kaelor. The warrior was always composed, always deliberate. Ash had assumed him to be cold at first, but something else was beneath the surface—something restrained.

  “You always this serious?” Ash asked, pushing off the wall to stand beside him.

  Kaelor arched a brow. “You always this reckless?”

  Ash grinned. “Reckless is just another word for resourceful.”

  Kaelor exhaled through his nose, but the barest hint of amusement was there. “Then I suppose I should be grateful you’re on our side.”

  A comfortable silence settled between them, the only sound the distant crackle of torches lining the perimeter. Ash, never one for stillness, picked up a discarded wooden practice sword and spun it in his hands.

  “So,” he said, tapping the hilt against his palm, “what’s your deal?”

  Kaelor frowned. “My... deal?”

  “Yeah. You’re all broody and mysterious. Honor-bound warrior type. But there’s something else there. What are you hiding?”

  Kaelor studied him for a long moment before answering. “Nothing that concerns you.”

  Ash scoffed. “That’s exactly what someone hiding something would say.”

  Kaelor shook his head, but the tension in his posture eased slightly. “I was raised to put duty above all else. Friendships, attachments... they were considered distractions.”

  Ash twirled the practice sword. “Sounds lonely.”

  “It was,” Kaelor admitted, surprising himself. “But necessary.”

  Ash hummed, then, after a pause, said, “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I think you just made a friend.”

  Kaelor gave him a sidelong glance. “Did I?”

  “Yep,” Ash said, spinning the sword again. “I would shake your hand and all but I am half fire.”

  Kaelor exhaled, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Ash clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now, let’s see if you can actually teach me something before I get thrown into another wall.”

  Kaelor rolled his eyes but unsheathed his sword once more. “Fine. But if you get yourself killed, don’t blame me.”

  Ash grinned. “Deal.”

  And just like that, a bond was forged—not in fire or blood, but in quiet understanding and mutual respect.

  Morning Complications

  The first thing Cassian noticed when he woke was warmth.

  For a man so used to waking alone, the soft heat of another body pressed beside him was startling. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of Selmira’s room, casting golden hues over her bare shoulder, the curve of her back partially exposed beneath the sheets. Her dark hair spilled across the pillows, her breathing slow and steady in the quiet morning air.

  Cassian watched her for a moment, unmoving.

  She was truly stunning. Cassian had known that before last night, but seeing her like this—relaxed, unguarded—made the realization feel different. Sharper. More dangerous. because this would complicate things, and he knew it.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Selmira stirred. Her lashes fluttered before her amber eyes peeked open, sleepy and soft. A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips.

  “Well,” she murmured, stretching slightly. “I guess last night went better than we expected.”

  Cassian huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s one way to put it.”

  She propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze playful but knowing.

  “You’re already overthinking, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe,” he admitted, dragging a hand through his hair. “But in my defense, that is what I do.”

  Selmira smirked, reaching out to trace her fingers lightly down his arm.

  “And yet, you weren’t thinking much last night.”

  Cassian caught her hand, pressing a brief kiss to her knuckles before reluctantly pulling away. “You should sleep as long as you want,” he said, standing and reaching for his discarded shirt. “I need to meet with Ronan and Kaelor about some relics.”

  Selmira hummed, watching him dress with lazy amusement. “Mmm, so serious already.”

  Cassian smirked. “Someone has to be.”

  She stretched out across the bed, sighing dramatically. “Fine. Go discuss your ancient relics. But don’t pretend you’re not going to be thinking about last night.”

  He paused at the doorway, glancing back at her with a smirk. “I don’t think pretending is an option.”

  And with that, he was gone, leaving Selmira alone in the tangled sheets, grinning to herself.

  The Hunt for the Relics

  Candlelight cast a warm glow over the war room at Lux Arcana while the thick scent of old parchment and ink lingered in the air. A large map, marked with symbols and annotations, was spread across the long oak table, its edges worn from constant handling.

  Cassian stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the room as the others settled in. Ronan leaned against the far wall, his arms folded, his usual brooding presence matched only by the quiet intensity of Kaelor, who sat at his side. With a glass of whisky in hand, Dorian lounged in his chair with an amused smirk, though his gaze was sharp with interest.

  “So,” Ronan said, breaking the silence. “Tell me we have more than scattered myths and wishful thinking.”

  Cassian exhaled. “We have enough to move forward. I’ve confirmed the locations of the three fragments of the Seal of Cinders.”

  Kaelor leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You’re sure?”

  Cassian nodded and pointed to the map. “Each piece was hidden centuries ago by the Wardens of the Vault, designed to keep the seal from being reassembled too easily. I’ve traced the historical accounts and cross-referenced old records. The pieces are real. And they’re here.”

  His fingers moved to the first marked location. “The first fragment is hidden within the Ruins of Veyrith, deep in the Forgotten Wilds. The records mention a trial of fire—some kind of ancient mechanism meant to deter trespassers.”

  Ronan scoffed. “Great. Because we don’t deal with enough fire already.”

  Cassian ignored him and continued. “The second fragment is in Dravoss Keep—an old fortress repurposed into a prison for war criminals. It’s well-guarded, which means we’ll need to be strategic.”

  Dorian swirled his whisky. “I do love a good prison break.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Cassian shot him a look before pointing to the third location. “The last piece is the most complicated. It was entrusted to the Celestian Order, a sect of scholars and mystics. Their stronghold is high in the mountains, and they aren’t exactly known for their hospitality.”

  Kaelor considered this, his fingers tapping against the table. “So we need to infiltrate ruins, break into a prison, and negotiate with a fanatical order. Straightforward.”

  Cassian smirked. “Would you prefer something more complicated?”

  Kaelor didn’t answer, but his gaze’s flicker of dry amusement was enough.

  “And the Cinderheart Relic?” Ronan asked. “Any leads?”

  Cassian hesitated. “That’s where things get tricky. The records on it are inconsistent. Some say it was buried beneath the Vault of Cinders itself, which is useless unless we can get inside. Others claim it was taken by a sect of fire-wielding warriors centuries ago. If that’s true, then the relic could be anywhere.”

  Ronan rubbed a hand down his face. “Perfect.”

  “We’ll focus on the seal first,” Cassian said firmly. “If the relic is still out there, we’ll find it, but without the seal, we don’t even get past the front door of the Vault.”

  Dorian raised his glass in a mock salute. “To impossible quests, then.”

  Kaelor nodded. “We’ll need to split up to cover ground efficiently.”

  Cassian agreed. “Ronan, you and I will take Dravoss Keep. We’ll need strategy and force to get past their security. Dorian, you’ll handle the Celestian Order—you have a way with words, and they’ll respond better to someone who doesn’t immediately scream ‘warrior.’”

  Dorian grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Cassian.”

  Cassian ignored him and turned to Kaelor. “That leaves you with the Ruins of Veyrith. If the trial of fire is anything like the records suggest, it will take both strength and discipline to get through. I trust you can handle it.”

  Kaelor nodded. “I won’t fail.”

  Cassian glanced at each of them, his expression grave. “We retrieve these pieces, we reassemble the seal, and we find a way into the Vault. No mistakes. No delays. We don’t know who else is after these relics, and I don’t intend to find out the hard way.”

  A beat of silence passed before Ronan spoke. “Then let’s move.”

  The hunt for the relics had begun.

  A Temporary Goodbye

  After the meeting, Ronan returned to Elysia’s chambers, knowing she wouldn’t take the news of his departure well.

  She was seated by the balcony, gazing out at the moonlit sky, but when she heard his footsteps, she turned, her expression shifting into something wary. “What is it?”

  He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have to leave.”

  Her brow furrowed. “For how long?”

  “A few days. Maybe longer.”

  Elysia stood, crossing her arms. “Why?”

  Ronan sighed. “Cassian and I are heading to Dravoss Keep to retrieve one of the relics that will open the Vault of Cinders. The others are being handled, but this one… we need to move quickly.”

  She pressed her lips together, clearly unhappy, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she stepped forward and touched Ronan’s chest, over his heart. “I understand. I just don’t like it.”

  “I know,” he murmured, placing his hand over hers.

  Elysia followed him as he packed, sitting on the edge of the bed while he gathered his weapons and travel gear. A quiet tension settled between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.

  When he finally closed his bag, he turned to her. “I’ll miss you.”

  Elysia tilted her head, giving him a small, sad smile. “I’ll miss you too.”

  He brushed his fingers over her cheek, then kissed her softly before pulling away. “Astrid and Nyx will be here. They’ll help with anything you need.”

  She scoffed lightly. “Oh, good. My very own royal guard.”

  Ronan chuckled. “You are the queen of the castle.”

  She met his gaze, her voice softer now. “It feels like a castle… but more like a prison when you’re gone.”

  Ronan’s heart clenched at that, but he had no words to offer—no promise he could make that would change the necessity of his leaving. So, instead, he pulled her close, pressing a final lingering kiss to her forehead before stepping away.

  “I’ll come back to you,” he vowed.

  And then he was gone.

  Visions of War

  After Ronan left, Elysia went searching for Astrid. She found her in the library, seated at a long wooden table surrounded by towering bookshelves. Enchanted lanterns illuminated the pages of an old tome she had been studying. The air smelled of parchment and candle wax, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of turning pages.

  Elysia hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. “Astrid, I need your help.”

  Astrid looked up, her piercing gaze settling on Elysia. She gestured for her to sit. “With what?”

  “My visions,” Elysia admitted, settling into the chair across from her.

  “There’s one I keep seeing. Ronan and I… we’re standing side by side, defending a golden city for the Thalrasi. But we’re losing.”

  Astrid’s brows furrowed as she closed the book in front of her. “Tell me everything.”

  Elysia took a steadying breath and began, her voice low but urgent. “The city is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The walls shimmer like molten gold, reflecting the sun even in battle. It’s breathtaking, but it’s burning. Smoke chokes the air, and the sky is thick with ash. We’re fighting… Ronan and I, along with warriors draped in gold and crimson, defending the gates against an overwhelming force.”

  Astrid listened intently, her expression unreadable. “Who are you fighting?”

  Elysia’s throat tightened. “I don’t know exactly. Shadows. Creatures wrapped in flame and darkness. Their eyes glow like embers, and their weapons—” She swallowed hard. “They cut through our defenses like they were made of paper. I feel the weight of a sword in my own hands, but even as I fight, I know we’re losing. I know we’re going to die.”

  Astrid remained silent for a long moment, her fingers lightly tapping against the book’s cover as if piecing together a puzzle. Finally, she exhaled sharply and met Elysia’s gaze.

  “I’ve read of such a city before,” she said carefully. “If your vision is true, then you’re seeing Zerathis, the lost city of the Thalrasi. It was said to be their stronghold, a sanctuary of power. But it fell centuries ago.”

  Elysia’s pulse quickened. “But I saw it as though it were happening now.”

  Astrid nodded. “Which means one of two things. Either the past is bleeding into your visions, or…” she hesitated, voice turning grim, “it hasn’t happened yet.”

  A chill ran through Elysia. “Then that means…”

  Astrid exhaled. “You and Ronan may be fated to stand at those gates. To fight that battle. And to lose.”

  Elysia shook her head, frustration flickering across her face. “How can I still be fated to do something that has already happened? I don’t understand. If Zerathis fell centuries ago, then it’s over. Done. So why am I seeing it as if it’s still waiting to happen?”

  Astrid studied her carefully before answering. “Time isn’t always as linear as we believe. Especially not when visions are involved. It could be a cycle, one that repeats in ways we don’t yet comprehend. Or—” she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “—it could mean that the fall of Zerathis isn’t bound to a single point in history. Perhaps it is a moment waiting to be fulfilled, and your presence there is the catalyst.”

  Elysia frowned, trying to wrap her mind around it. “So either I’m seeing echoes of the past, or the past is reaching forward… pulling us into it.”

  Astrid nodded. “Or maybe what you saw wasn’t just a vision—it was a warning.”

  Elysia hesitated, a new thought creeping into her mind like a slow-moving shadow. “What if it isn’t just about the fall of Zerathis?” she murmured. “What if it symbolizes something bigger? The fall of the Thalrasi itself?”

  Astrid stiffened her expression carefully guarded. “That’s a dangerous thought.”

  “But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Elysia pressed. “There’s a prophecy—one that speaks of the fall of the Thalrasi at the hands of Ronan and me. What if this vision is showing me how it happens? What if we’re not just defending Zerathis? What if we’re the reason it falls?”

  Astrid exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening against the book before her.

  “It’s possible,” she admitted, her voice measured. “But prophecies are not always what they seem. They’re riddles, wrapped in symbols, twisted by time. Just because the vision shows you there doesn’t mean you’re the cause of the fall.”

  Elysia swallowed hard. “Then why does it feel like I am? Like I already know that no matter what we do, we lose?”

  Astrid reached across the table, gripping her wrist. “Because fear twists fate. And if you believe you’re doomed to fulfill this prophecy, you may end up walking straight into it.”

  Elysia let out a shaky breath, staring at the worn grain of the table beneath her fingers. Another question burned in her mind, one she had been too afraid to ask before. But if Astrid had answers, now was the time to ask.

  “Do you know anything about my family? About where I come from?” Her voice was softer now, uncertain. “And about my first death?”

  Astrid’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Why ask that now?”

  Elysia shifted, suddenly feeling exposed. “Because if my past is tangled with this prophecy, I need to understand all of it. If Zerathis is part of my future, then I have to know what led me to this moment.”

  Astrid sighed and leaned back, her gaze thoughtful. “Your origins are complicated, Elysia. There are things hidden even from me, but I know this—you were not meant to survive your first death. And yet, you did. That alone makes you something… different.”

  Elysia’s throat tightened. “Different how?”

  Astrid hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “No one truly knows what happens when someone like you—someone touched by fate—dies before their time. But whatever force brought you back… it didn’t do so without purpose. Your visions, your connection to the Thalrasi, the prophecy itself… all of it is woven into the same thread.”

  Elysia clenched her fists. “So I was never just some girl with a lost past. I was always meant to be part of this.”

  Astrid nodded. “Yes. And whether that is a gift or a curse… only time will tell.”

  Astrid exhaled. “You and Ronan may be fated to stand at those gates. To fight that battle. And to lose.”

  A heavy silence settled between them, pressing down with the weight of the revelation.

  Elysia clenched her hands into fists, fire stirring at her fingertips. “Then we need to find a way to change that future.”

  Astrid’s eyes darkened with understanding. “Then we’d better start looking now.”

  A Distraction in the Shadows

  Elysia stepped out of the library, Astrid’s words still echoing. The heavyweight of new knowledge sat in her chest, her thoughts tangled and restless. She needed time to make sense of it all, to piece together how her past and future intertwined, but the corridors of the Lux Arcana felt endless, stretching like shadows as she walked.

  She turned a corner and nearly collided with Selmira.

  Selmira grinned, her golden eyes flashing with mischief. “Perfect timing.”

  Elysia blinked, stepping back. “For what?”

  Selmira sighed dramatically. “Cassian is gone, I’m bored, and I refuse to spend another night sulking in my chambers. So, I’ve decided to have fun. And lucky for you, I need company.”

  Elysia hesitated. Her mind screamed at her to retreat, to shut herself away and dissect every word Astrid had just told her. But the thought of being alone, trapped in a spiral of unanswered questions, made her stomach twist.

  Selmira cocked her head, reading her silence too quickly. “You can either go to your room and drown in whatever brooding thoughts are haunting you…” She leaned in closer, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Or you can come with me to the casino and let fate decide your night.”

  Elysia exhaled slowly. Logic told her to go back to process and prepare.

  Instead, she smirked. “Alright. Let’s have some fun.”

  Selmira beamed. “That’s the spirit.”

  With that, she linked her arm through Elysia’s, and together, they strode through the grand halls of Lux Arcana, making their way toward the pulsing heart of the casino floor.

  As soon as they stepped inside, the scent of expensive liquor and enchanted smoke greeted them. Laughter and the chime of clinking glasses mixed with the rhythmic shuffle of cards, the hypnotic spin of roulette wheels, and the air thrummed with magic. The walls hummed with an energy that promised fortune or ruin in equal measure.

  Selmira led the way, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. Her presence turned heads as she moved with her usual effortless grace.

  Elysia followed, already feeling the tension in her chest loosen.

  Tonight, she would let herself forget.

  Even if only for a little while.